


Closer

by RoksanaLyasin



Series: Sunny Stories [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Feels, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Love Letters, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Varric Tethras, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Romance, Secret Admirer, Secret Crush, Secrets, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-11-29 06:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11434761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoksanaLyasin/pseuds/RoksanaLyasin
Summary: Sometimes, words don't come as easily to Varric as he'd like.





	1. So Close, Yet So Far

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyNorbert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNorbert/gifts).



> **Dragon Age Prompt** | [Click here to read it on Tumblr](https://roksanalyasin.tumblr.com/post/162727269017/so-close-yet-so-far-prompt).  
>  **“Who made the first move?” for[@ladynorbert](http://ladynorbert.tumblr.com/) and [DWC @dadrunkwriting](http://dadrunkwriting.tumblr.com/).**  
>  **Rating:** General.  
>  **Characters:** Varric Tethras, Bethany Hawke.

Varric rubbed at his eyes, his face, trying to wipe away his exhaustion after a long day of breaking bandits, and a longer evening of writing.  He was just tired, he told himself, over and over. Exhausted from running around High Town and Low Town with Hawke and his companions, though ‘misfits’ was a better term to describe their group.  Depleted by the fighting, even though he revelled in the chase and the thrill of battle.

 _Denial_.

The word drifted through his thoughts and his lips twisted into a scowl.  He tried to wave it from his mind but the page laying so innocently on the table laughed at his attempt.  The truth was, he was drained emotionally rather than physically, every day spent pushing away the desires that bloomed in his chest, pushing away the inviting warmth that curled tighter around his heart with every sweet smile.  

He placed his face in his hands, rubbing harder at his eyes.

_I can’t feel this way…_

Varric glanced up when a knock sounded, and a voice called through the door, ‘Can I come in?’

He was surprised – it was past midnight, after all – but she never failed to brighten his mood.

‘Yeah, of course, Sunshine,’ Varric said as he crumpled up the page in his fist, dropping it on the table before he turned in his chair to face her, ‘what are you doing up so late?’

A warm smile lit Bethany’s lips as she approached. ‘I could ask the same of you.’

Varric waved a hand over the stack of paper on the table. ‘I’m always up late, you know me.’

She slumped into a chair closest to him, propping her chin up on her hands. ‘Well, I’d prefer to be asleep, but Garrett would not stop snoring no matter how many times I kicked the top bunk.’

‘He does snore like a champ, that one,’ Varric said, rubbing the back of his neck, ‘I hope you didn’t run into any bandits on your way here.’

‘No, but it’s sweet that you worry about me.’

A smirk tugged at his lip. ‘Encountering a powerful lady mage in Low Town at night? Sunshine, I’m more worried about them.’

Bethany laughed, her mirth seeming to brighten the dull, candlelit room. ‘I don’t know if I’m that formidable but I appreciate the compliment.’

An easy silence fell between them, filled with smiles and her calm aura.  He always found himself watching her in these rare quiet moments, studying her for inspiration, he told himself.  

He noted how she swept silken strands of her dark hair away from her face with slender fingers, how the soft pink hue that usually dusted her cheeks changed with the temperature or her emotions, how her eyes seemed to brighten when she laughed, shining like gold.  

‘I hope I didn’t interrupt your writing.’  

He shook the thoughts from his mind. ‘No, it’s fine. It wasn’t going well, anyway,’ he said, offering a smile to reassure her, toying absently with the crumpled page, ‘I thought I’d try my hand at a romance but I don’t think I have the knack for it.’

Bethany sat up in her chair, leaning closer. ‘Oh, Varric, you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re an excellent writer, and you have such a wonderful way with words. I’m sure you can write anything you put your mind to.’

He met her gaze, bright and open, shining like her sweet words.  He was staggered by the sincerity there, by her unwavering confidence in him.  He knew not what he had done to earn the beautiful smile that graced her lips, but he was delighted by it.

‘You think so, Sunshine?’

Her smile grew impossibly brighter. ‘Absolutely.’ She rose from the chair, walking to his side. ‘Thank you for the company,’ she said, squeezing his shoulder with a delicate hand, ‘I suppose I should go home and try and get some sleep, and let you do the same.’

Varric caught his tongue between his teeth to keep from stammering when she pressed a kiss to his temple.  He could do nothing more than smile up at her before she turned, tucking her cloak around her shoulders.  

He sat dazed for a moment – how long, he did not know – as he stared at the door.  He released a shuddering breath, unaware he’d even been holding it, and his eyes turned back to the page.  He carefully unfurled the scrunched letter, smoothing it out with shaking fingers.  

* * *

_Dear Sunshine,_

_I won’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to write this – it’ embarrassing to think I’ve struggled to find the right words – but there’s something I want to tell you..._

* * *

Varric closed his eyes, picturing rosy cheeks and a sweet smile. He willed his muse to speak to him, to inundate him with the words necessary to express the affection that that curled warmly around his heart, and a smile lit his lips when she answered.  He reached for his quill, ink flowing across the page.

 _I can’t feel this way…_ he thought again, _but I_ want _to._


	2. So Far, Yet So Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Dragon Age Prompt** | [Click here to read it onTumblr](https://roksanalyasin.tumblr.com/post/163130324932/so-far-yet-so-close-prompt).  
>  **“Who made the first move?” for[@ladynorbert](http://ladynorbert.tumblr.com/).**  
>  **Rating:** General.  
>  **Characters:** Varric Tethras.

_Dear Sunshine,_

_I won’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to write this. It’s embarrassing to think I’ve struggled to find the right words when I’m supposed to be able to do this easily, being a writer and all. I’ve waited many nights for the voice of my muses to speak to me, but I know now why they’re quiet. They’re waiting for me to find the words that I’ve buried in my heart, words I’ve been too scared to speak. And yes, you read that right – I am scared.  I swore I’d take one of my crossbow arrows to my chest before I allowed myself to feel this way again, but deep down I know this is different._

* * *

Varric returned the quill to the inkwell before the ink could drip over the letter. An hour ago, he’d been so sure of himself, buoyed by her sweet words, but the more he turned her words over in his mind, the less confident he grew.

_‘Oh, Varric, you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re an excellent writer, and you have such a wonderful way with words. I’m sure you can write anything you put your mind to.’_

As much as he’d enjoyed her company – it had not been an hour since she left –he knew she would never have said the words if she’d known the truth.

Varric pulled at the heavy chain around his neck, fidgeting in an attempt to calm his nerves, even knowing that no amount of distraction would truly compose his thoughts.

Writing normally came so easy to him, the ink flowing from his quill with ease. Every time he tried to start _this_ letter though, he would spend hours stumbling over the words, scrunching up every page after a paragraph or two. The fire at his back was filled with the ashes of his previous attempts. Each one lacked the depth of his emotion or failed to convey his affection. More than once, he’d tried to talk himself out of writing the letter, inventing of a string of excuses.

 _I’m too old_ , he believed.

 _I can’t hold a candle to her beauty_ , he reasoned.

 _I’m just a dwarf blinded by the sun_ , he thought.

 _Hawke is going to kill me if he finds out_ , he knew.

Still, his hand itched for the feel of the quill, even though the words seemed to strain against the flow of the ink. He forced himself to pick up the feathered implement again. The nib hovered over the paper for a moment before he finally made contact, trying to let his hand guide him, trying to call on his muse – his Sunshine – for the strength to find the words.

* * *

_I know we’ve only known each other a few months, but the more time I spend with you, the more I realise why I started to call you Sunshine. You’ve brought more light into my life than I ever imagined I would know, and I admit that these last months I have basked in your presence; you can walk into the darkest alley in Kirkwall and, still, you shine. I’m captivated by your eyes and the golden glimmer that dances in them when you laugh. I’m warmed by your gaze, even on nights when we play Wicked Grace in the Hanged Man, huddled up together by the fire to stave off the cold. Your smile is brighter than a midsummer day, and every time you smile at me, my heart is a garden that sings for the sweet caress of your golden gaze and you smile that warms me to my very soul, just like the rays of the sun._

_I’ve tried to deny the longing blooming in my chest, and I’ve tried to push away the inviting warmth that curls tighter around my heart with each smile you grace upon this world, upon me, but I can’t fight it anymore – I won’t. I don’t expect you to feel the same way, Sunshine, nor would I ever ask you to. I just want you to know that, if nothing else, you’ve brought some light into my life, and I am thankful for that. I am thankful to know you, and your brilliant mind, and your fierce spirit, and your kind soul._

_Yours always,  
_ _Varric._

* * *

Varric returned the quill to the inkwell again. He stared down at the page. A part of him was still tempted to scrunch up the paper as that terrified part that asked, _what the hell are you doing Varric?_ but he resisted the urge. Instead, he gently blew on the ink to dry it, folded it neatly, addressed it, and found his sealing kit.

He pulled on his coat, making it out of the tavern, the bar empty at such an early hour in the morning. The stars twinkled above as he exited through the front door, watching Varric as he made his way out of the Hanged Man and onto the cobblestone. The breeze was icy, urging his brisk pace as he moved through the familiar streets of Low Town. The letter felt like it was burning a hole in his coat pocket, and his steps seemed to become heavier the closer he came to her house, mind filled with _what ifs_.

_What if Hawke reads it first?_

_What if she doesn’t feel the same?_

_What if she laughs at me?_

_What if I ruin our friendship?_

He shook the thoughts from his mind, marching forward as he steeled his resolve. He made it up the steps to her house, resisting the urge to turn tail and run as he pulled the letter from his coat pocket and slid it under the door.  


	3. The Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethany replies to Varric's clandestinely delivered love letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Dragon Age Prompt** | [Click here to read it on Tumblr](https://roksanalyasin.tumblr.com/post/163561306817/the-answer-prompt).  
>  “Who made the first move?” for [@ladynorbert](http://ladynorbert.tumblr.com/).  
>  **Characters:** Bethany Hawke.

 

Bethany woke early, sometime before dawn, she realised as she looked around the dark room, not even a sliver of light peeking beneath the door. Much to her chagrin, she knew she would not get back to sleep, not with her brother snoring soundly on the bunk above her. She’d caught only a few hours of rest, having visited Varric in the middle of the night because of the obnoxious noise maker above her, but she refused to lie in bed only for her anger to grow hotter with every one of Garrett’s half-choked breaths.

She threw the covers aside with a huff, padding through the small house as quietly as she could manage, not wanting to rouse her mother and uncle even if her brother deserved an early morning wallop for keeping her awake most of the night. She went out into the main room, moonlight lighting her path to the table. She thought she would sit with a book by the candlelight, but her eyes caught on a white envelope that sat innocently on the heart, just inside the front door.

She moved closer, picking it up. It must have arrived during the night, she realised, slipped under the door after she returned from the Hanged Man.

She walked to the table, setting it down for a moment to light a few candles. With better light, she examined the curled handwriting, turning the letter in her hands, intrigued to find no other markings.

It was addressed only with her name.

Bethany broke the wax seal, unfolding the page, but she nearly dropped the letter when she read the first line.

_Dear Sunshine,_

She gripped the page tighter, eyes darting over the content, a weight settling heavier in her stomach with every word. When she finished reading, she placed the letter on the table, bringing shaking fingers to her lips.

She’d talked to Varric for almost an hour only the night before, the memory of their conversation still fresh in her mind.

_‘I hope I didn’t interrupt your writing,’ she said, twisting her hands together, feeling like she’d intruded on his work. He’d been staring so intently at the page when she arrived, yet he’d crumpled it up the moment she entered._

_‘No, it’s fine. It wasn’t going well, anyway,’ he said, offering a smile to reassure her, toying absently with the crumpled page, ‘I thought I’d try my hand at a romance but I don’t think I have the knack for it.’_

She realised then that this was the ‘romance’ he’d said he was writing, the soft crease marks and small ink smudges speaking to the letter’s troubled history in the author’s hands.

Isabela had suggested that Varric might have feelings for her only last week. She’d waved the rogue off, but she’d also seen the soft smiles that lit Varric’s lips when he thought she wasn’t looking, always noticed the bright tone in his voice when he called her sunshine. Truth be told, she found his rugged features attractive, often squeezed his arm just to feel the strength of the muscles beneath, had even wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked.  

But she’d never expected _this_.  

Bethany re-folded the letter, resting her elbows on the table as she wracked her brain for an answer, a solution to her churning thoughts. She had little romantic experience, and Varric hadn’t exactly asked for a date in his outpouring of emotion, though the thought that he might want to go on a date – no matter what it entailed – made her lips quirk in a smile. 

 _Do I write a letter back?_ She wondered, _or should I go to the Hanged Man? How is one supposed to act in the face of such a weighty confession?_

She glanced up at the window, a soft orange glow beginning to break through the darkness. The sun would soon be up, which meant she had about an hour before her family woke.

She found a quill, an ink pot, and some paper, a smile on her lips as she set to work.

* * *

_Dear Varric,_

_You may say you don’t have a knack for writing romances, but perhaps that’s because you’ve not had the right experiences. Maybe we can learn more about the genre together?_

_Yours,  
_ _Bethany._

* * *

She folded it, quickly affixing a plain wax seal. She ducked back into her room, pulling on a robe and cloak before she carefully exited the house and made her way to the Hanged Man, her pace brisk as she raced through the early morning light, and she soon neared the tavern.

 _He slipped the letter under my door_ , she thought, a mischievous smile on her lips, _so I’ll do the same to him_.


	4. The Hasty Reply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor language warning.

Varric woke to a quick succession of knocks on his door. He groaned, scrubbing at his eyes with roughened knuckles, the rapid knocking like a hammer on his skull. He glanced around the room, warm light illuminating his quarters. He guessed that he’d had a few hours of sleep at most, his eyes heavy in his skull, his head like a boulder stuck awkwardly on his neck. He was barely conscious as he threw the covers aside, berating himself internally for his rash, night-veiled mission.

 _Great idea,_ Varric, he thought, sure that Bethany would have read the letter by now, sure that their friendship would be ruined by that sheet of paper, _it was almost as good as that idea you had for a romance novel title… sheesh._

‘Coming,’ he grumbled as loud as he could manage, his voice croaky with sleep. The knocking stopped and he sighed with relief, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment as he gathered his waking mind into one piece.

He rose on unsteady legs, dragging on a robe to make himself half presentable as he wandered over to the door. He was greeted by the timid smile of the bar maid.

‘Sorry to wake you, Master Tethras.’

‘It’s fine, Elina, and call me Varric,’ he said, and he forced himself to return her bright smile, ‘what is it?’

She reached into the pouch of her apron, ‘this arrived for you overnight. It was slipped under the door near the bar.’

Elina held out a letter, and Varric accepted it, eyes down as he muttered his thanks. He didn’t notice Elina turn and leave, his focus on the plain wax seal as he closed the door. He turned the letter in his hands as he approached the table, pulling out a chair and settling into it as he broke the seal. His eyes fell on the first line, instantly recognising the sloped script, and he threw the letter halfway across the table, too scared to read any further, his mind instantly envisioning a plethora of anger and hurt unfolding on the page, her delicate script becoming harsher with every word.

He leant back in his chair, staring at the page. It was bathed in the soft light of the morning sun, sitting there innocently enough, ignorant to his fear. For a moment, he turned away, ready to leave the letter there and deny its very existence. Still, he was drawn to it, to the elegant script that spoke his name so sweetly, mimicking her voice in his mind.

‘Well, shit,’ Varric muttered, picking up the letter again. He unfolded it slowly as he steeled himself with a shaky breath, his eyes soon darting over the page. With every word his smile grew brighter until he beamed, his heart thundering in his chest with a staggering mixture of relief and excitement.

He leant his elbows on the table, surprised to find that no matter how many times he read the short address it did not change, the words unyielding, the sentences clear. For the first time since he felt the first flutters of romance blossom in his heart he felt _hope._ There was only one thing to do while he still had the nerve.

He rushed to his abandon writing gear on the opposite side of the table, gathering up his quill, inkwell, and a clean page. He settled into the chair, wasting no time to put nib to paper.

* * *

_Sunshine,_  

_I would be thrilled to conduct some research with you, and honoured to have you as my co-author. Perhaps you'll accompany me to High Town this evening? We could begin with a candlelit dinner, including all the clichés - for research purposes, of course - and then we could investigate the stars from a private location that offers the best view of Kirkwall. A good novel is all about capturing reality, after all._

_Yours,_

_Varric._

* * *

He set the quill back down, wondering if he'd carried their little metaphor too far, but still eager to hear her reply. He left the page on the table while the ink dried, rushing back through his quarters. He dressed in a hurry, almost putting his jacket on backwards in his haste as he returned to the table to seal and address the letter before he sprinted out to the main floor of the Hanged Man as fast as his stout legs allowed.

‘Elina, can I ask a favour?’

She glanced up from the table she was wiping, clearly surprised by Varric’s sudden appearance in the room. ‘O- of course.’

He handed her the letter, along with a generous amount of coins. ‘I’ve got a few errands to run this morning. Can you take this letter over to this address-’ he handed her a scribbled note- ‘for me?’

Elina glaced at it. ‘I was just about to head to the market, I can drop it off on my way Ma- Varric.’ She tried to hand back the coins, always too polite to accept such a gesture.

He offered a winning smile, closing her hands around them. ‘For your trouble, and make sure you grab yourself something nice for breakfast on your way back.’

‘Are- are you sure?’

‘You’re doing me a big favour, trust me. Thank you, Elina,’ he said, already making his way towards the front door. He rushed out into the early morning sun that danced between the buildings and streets of Low Town, making his way up.

 _Well, Varric, if you were going to write a romance in Kirkwall, how would your hero sweep a lady off their feet?_ he wondered as he reached the hustle and bustle of the High Town market. He pushed his way through the crowds, pausing when he caught flashes of amber and gold - the swirling colours of his Sunshine’s eyes - in his peripheral, and a smile bloomed on his lips.

 _That,_ he decided, making his way towards the stall, _is a good start._


End file.
